So Much Less
by SabrinaScissorhands
Summary: Arrogance is only a cover, something to hide behind.


_How little they all know about me_.

The words rip through my mind, suffocating any other thought. They never bother to ask, never think to care. No one does. To them, I am just Keiro. Merely a name, a fighter, a pretty face. And because that is all they care for, it is all I have to flaunt. All I'll ever have down here.

I hate them for it.

The halfmen stare up in admiration, this so-called perfection. Everything they won't ever be. The others admire me for my strength, my daring. All of that is great, and yet…

_I am so much more than that_.

And Finn. I cannot begin to fathom what Finn thinks of me. What he sees. Despite the amount time I spend with him, he is my biggest mystery. My largest critic, my best friend. Though at times, it is as if he sees only a monster in me. The way his eyes will narrow at things I say, the way he retorts my thoughtless comments. Sometimes, I know, he thinks me arrogant. A fool.

_I am so much more than that_.

I tear down a corner, stopping just around the bend. Not far up is the cell I share with Finn, and I cannot go in there. Not yet.

Deep breath. Unfurling of the fingers. Eyes flitting shut.

And yet, what is it that I have? What is it in me that is so much more? It is the question of all Scum, all prisoners. We are nothing, have nothing. We are nothing but savages. Tendrils of doubt ensnare my mind once more, whispers that maybe this beauty and reckless fearlessness _are_ all I have.

And really, what's the fault in that?

_No!_

I keel over, arms wrapping around my torso. I do have something. I care for Finn. He cares for me. That is something, if not the smallest of something.

Yet he seems to take such little interest in me. I scowl, arms pulling slowly from myself as I straighten back up. How many times I have listened to his stories, his rubbish tales of Outside. How often I have carried him back to the cell because he has lost consciousness after one of his fits. How often he has required my help.

But surely, it could be counted on one hand the times he has helped me in similar circumstances. And of course, he has never asked of my past. Never once.

Consumed in his own lust for memories of Outside, Finn has managed to completely overlook his oathbrother. _This impossible task has been accomplished by the one and only Finn Starseer_, I think bitterly.

My eyes fall down to my hands as I begin to walk again, eyes trained on my fingernails. An empty shudder trails down my spine, and I tuck my hands in the pocket of my coat.

Perhaps I am nothing spectacular after all. Nothing past the surface.

Finn takes no notice when I walk in; I do not hide my glower. Not even a hello. So what if I am seen by everyone as vain? A ruthless killer? _I must be so much more than that_. I am his oathbrother. He has no right to ignore me so.

I sit on my hard bed, pushing off my shoes. I eye Finn, who is staring up at the ceiling, with contempt.

I say unhurriedly, "Hello, Finn."

Finally, he glances my way and offers a small nod.

A fire rises in me. I know I deserve more than that. My eyes slam shut, the flames burning my eyelids, searing images into my retinas. I cringe, fingers flicking up towards my head. But I bite my lip, trying to pull back to normal. _I am so much more than that_. Not someone to be overlooked. Not someone to be passed over.

_Arrogant. Ruthless. Murderer._ I buckle over, hands going to my head. I think in retaliation, _Much more_.

It's only now that I hear Finn's concerned voice. My name, he is saying my name. But the fire that burns behind my eyelids seems to be screaming in my ears. Faces of those I've murdered sear into my mind. Screams echo in my ears. A gasp escapes my lips.

I barely hear Finn scrambling up. The next thing from him I am aware of is his hand on my shoulder.

The coldness of his fingertips is rejected by my body. Instantly, I jerk away, eyes flying open. Finn jumps back, fear lurking in his eyes.

"No," I gasp. "Do not touch me, Finn."

With pictures still ablaze in the hollows of my eyelids at my every blink, I stare at my oathbrother in slight disbelief.

I have hurt so many. Finn so few, if any. He has never killed, never been soaked in another's blood. Never. And here I am, nothing but a killer with the touch of embers and a gaze of steel. He is the opposite, everything I am not. We are a balance, and it must stay that way.

"Are you alright?" he finally whispers.

"I'm fine," I snap.

He takes my word for it and turns away. I want to curse him, scream, tell him I am most definitely not okay. Tell him he needs to give a damn about me. I am important. Ask me something. Intrude. Even if I were to deny an answer to his questions, at least I would know that he cared to find out. I am left smoldering, lying on my bed, turned toward the wall.

Finn Starseer. Oathbrother.

Feverishly selfish. Oblivious.

I bite my lower lip until I can taste the blood, clench my fists until they burn. Perhaps, however, I have brought this upon myself. Perhaps I have built up a wall that keeps the others away. Perhaps I have merely intimidated all of them. Perhaps they are merely nervous to speak to me. Even Finn. Perhaps I instill just that much intimidation.

Or, perhaps, it is something else entirely. Something else I daren't to consider.

Perhaps I am merely so much less than I like to think.


End file.
